In The Dawn Of Change
by seasidewriter1
Summary: Through a twist of coincidence or fate, Artemesia is given the chance to enlist in the army, disguised as a man. After a series of fairly odd events, she meets none other than Steve Rogers: Captain America. Soon fighting side by side, it was only a matter of time he discovered her secret. Will they fall in love as they fight against HYDRA and fight for freedom? Steve/OC
1. Fate or Dreadful Coincidence?

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own Captain America (the comic, the movie, etc.) or any of the characters. I only own my OC Art. _

_**Foreword:**__** Well, I've been meaning to write this for a while and I finally got the guts to type it up and post it! It may be dreadfully bad or surprisingly okay, that's up to you guys to decide. I have used the name Artemesia in another fic before, but they have no correlation what-so-ever. **_

_** So, this takes place while Steve is doing is performance tours around the U.S., just to give perspective for time and what not. Well, that note aside, enjoy! **_

1. Fate or Dreadful Coincidence?

_**New York City, New York**_

The nervous sips of the pungent scotch were what first caught Art's blue-green eyes. A man with dirty-blond hair sat at the bar inside the brightly lit restaurant, sipping a glass of scotch whilst glancing nervously at a manila colored card on the bar top. The second thing that caught her eye was the tension in his shoulders and the frown pulling deeply on his face. Art, always being one to make sure someone was safe and emotionally sound, stepped across the room, heels of her saddles shoes clicking on the sticky floor, and carefully sat beside him.

" Excuse me," She said softly, placing a hand on his forearm. " Are you alright?" His pale blue eyes flew to hers and he stared at her a moment.

" I, uh… I'm… yes… no… I'm not," He stuttered out, shaking his head frantically.

" What's bothering you?" She asked, noting the pristine looking uniform he wore.

" This." He slid the card on the bar to rest in front of her. She recognized it immediately. It was a medical card soldiers filled out in order to enlist. Had Art not been female, she would have been first in line to enlist, but unfortunately, that wasn't an option for her. She could be a nurse or a secretary, sure, but she had no medical experience and could barely organize her closet. She'd been assisting nurses in a local military hospital by running forms and papers back and forth through dimly lit halls, and had seen many of the cards like the one that sat on the bar.

" This passed, you can go fight. That's great," She told him, a tad confused. He turned his eyes on her again, and he set his glass down, shaking his head sadly.

" I-I made a mistake, you see? I'm beginning to realize how much I don't want to fight. My _father_ wanted me to enlist, but truthfully, I just want to stay here. I don't want to fire a gun. I'm not a fighter in the long shot! I don't want to die… I… I just… I can't go!" He told her, running shaking hands over his face.

Art put a comforting hand on his back and said,

" Well…" She looked down at the name on the form. " Arthur, I can't tell you how much I'd like to be in your place right now. If I could go over and fight, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I'm Artemesia Knoll, by the way." He looked over at her and nodded one, sniffing slightly.

" Arthur Kensington." His eyes lingered on her a moment before they landed back on the sheet. " You… you said you would fight if you could?" Art laughed ruefully and cupped her chin in her palm. Brushing a strand of brown hair from her face, she nodded.

" Unfortunately, I have a few problems with achieving that dream. First and foremost, I'm female. And… that sort of rules out any chance _at all_. And if we have to list at least one more problem, I'm not strong. I'd get beat up within the first day," She said with a small laugh, running a hand through his hair.

" Do you see _me?_ I'm tall and skinny as a stick. In fact, I'm sure I'd break if I tripped and fell," Arthur laughed, tugging on his shirtfront. He stared at her again and bit his lower lip a moment. " But… I have… an idea. An insane idea that you'll say no to, but I'm still going to say it. If you want to fight… and I don't and can't… then… would you like to take this card…" His fingers nervously drummed the medical card on the bar. " And… and fight under my name? You can change the height and the hair color and the address; my idiot of a doctor wrote in pencil instead of pen. I'd be forever grateful, Artemesia. Not to mention this would give you an opportunity to do what you want, however illegal it is."

Art's eyes landed on those of the man siting at her side. He looked so hopeful it would make anyone's heart ache. He clearly would go to any measure in order to escape the military, and was willing to talk about and seriously consider breaking so many laws with someone he'd only just met in the middle of a crowded restaurant. At that moment, though, it felt like they were alone. Like the people were on mute and frozen, and the residual sounds of clinking glasses and artificial laughter were no longer surrounding them. Her fingers began to twitch slightly, and her heart slowly sped up. Her lower lip slid under her front teeth and she began to think…

Arthur cast his eyes downward and nodded.

" I understand. It's too dangerous and we'd probably get caught—"

" I'll do it."

A pause.

" I'm sorry, what?"

" I'll do it, Arthur. I'll take your place. I'm probably insane, my friends would _kill_ me, so would my aunt… but I'll do it. I'll take any chance I can get to do this no matter how illegal," She told him, smiling at him. The biggest grin Art had ever seen appeared on Arthur's face.

" Dear Lord, thank you!" He pulled her into a hug, causing the two to stand. She found she was almost his height, just a few inches shorter. She'd never thought herself very feminine looking. Her jaw was slightly more defined than the soft looking jawlines other women had and her cheekbones were slightly higher than average, angling her face in an artfully strong way. When it came to finding dresses or blouses, she thought her broader shoulders a curse. Her long legs carried her to walk in long strides and her feet weren't dainty. Her aunt tried to convince her she looked every bit of feminine as the next girl, but she ignored all her relative's protests. " You're saving my life!"

" And you're giving me a gift—a chance to do what I want," Art said, smiling as she returned the hug.

" I'll give you my uniform; I still have my street clothes I can change into. You have to be the nicest stranger—acquaintance—I've ever had the fortune to meet." Laughing a bit and nodding in agreement, she took another glance at his card, noting his year of birth.

" Fancy that. We're both twenty-three. I don't know if this is… fate or some sort of dreadful coincidence!"

" I'd say both. Here, give me a moment," Arthur said, patting her shoulder with an almost giddy smile, leaving to go change in the bathroom.

It slowly began to sink in as Art sat back down. What had started out as a quick bite to eat before returning home had turned into the biggest, most life changing event in her life. She did have a tendency to break rules, but this was the _biggest_ rule—law—she would ever break. Sliding long-fingered hands into her shoulder-length locks; thoughts began to run through her head.

_Aunt Florence will have my head when she finds out; so will Jenny and Carl. And Kenneth… he'll probably just… go along with it. He's only five after all._ She smiled at the thought of her brother. _He's going to think I'm playing a game with him. _She and her brother, Kenneth Knoll, lived with their Aunt Florence, their father's sister, ever since their parents died in a car crash four years prior. Their father had been in the military once and had told her stories about his experiences, which had been one of the first things that had sparked an interest in being a soldier or joining the army. It was when the Second World War started up and began to descend into full swing had she seriously considered how much being a soldier was on her mind.

A stack of folded clothes were set on the bar beside her, a now extremely casual looking Arthur sitting on the ratty leather-upholstered stool beside her. A green plaid shirt tucked into black pants made him look his age. He smiled softly at her.

" I'm sure you can find some shoes that'll fit. I… I just cannot express how much this… this means to me," He told her, patting the folded up tan fabric. Art returned his smile and nodded, still slightly lost in thought. " When you've gone over to… wherever they'll send you, if you ever need to talk or write to someone, I'd gladly accept your letters. My address is on that card, should you decide to write. And…" He dug another folded up form from his pocket and set it atop the uniform. " _These_ are forms with any other information you might need. I was set to leave day after tomorrow; they seemed pretty urgent about all this."

" Thank you. I'll write to you, I promise," She told him with a smile. She gathered up her newly acquired items and stood up, nodding to him.

" I wish you luck, my friend, and thank you, again, for saving me from this situation. Stay safe," Arthur told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Exchanging one last smile as they walked to the door, they parted ways down the darkened New York street. Art hugged the uniform to her chest and could hardly help the smile that pulled onto her face.

OOOO

Sliding the top button through its hole, Art sucked in a long breath. She'd taken the entire day perfecting what was going to be her new look—her new identity. She'd cut her hair and carefully combed it into a proper looking style; she cut her brother's hair and found it difficult to try and get it right on herself, although she thought maybe they'd have a barber to fix it. She'd used a role of bandages to tightly bind her chest to make it appear flat, which was only helped by the fact that her shirt was slightly baggy, even when tucked in. She could feel the dog tags against her undershirt, and she thought over her new name. Arthur Kensington. Arthur wouldn't be hard to get used to. Kensington? That could be a challenge.

With a final sigh, she slid on her jacket and hat and peered at herself in the mirror. The clothes were slightly too big, even with the bits of mending she did. She would have to make a point of grabbing a pair of men's reading glasses, since she needed them to… well… read. Slinging a rucksack onto her shoulder and snatching up two letters, she slowly walked to the door. Her aunt was asleep, and Kenny was probably secretly reading the very first Captain America comic under his sheets. Slowly moving to his room next door, she stepped inside and saw her assumption was correct. Kenny, using a flashlight, was reading a comic, leaning up against his pillows.

" Kenny?" She asked. He looked up and stared at her a long moment.

" Art?" He asked in slight confusion. " Why are you dressed like that?"

" Look, Ken, I need you to keep a secret for me, okay?" She asked. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she put an arm around his shoulders. " I've been given the chance to go fight, like Captain America. I know that I'll be gone for a long time… and… I know that I shouldn't be going, according to law, but you can't let Aunt Florence know until she asks where I am. When she does, give her this, okay?" She held up a letter, which had 'Florence' written on the front.

" Oh… You're going to go fight Nazis?" Kenny asked quietly. Smiling, Art pulled off her hat.

" Yeah. Protect America and all that jazz. So, buddy, can you keep your older sister's secret?"

" Yeah. I can."

" Tell you what, I'll write you, every week, whenever I can. And, if I run into Captain America, I'll tell him you say hi, okay?" Kenny nodded eagerly and she laughed softly. " I'm going to have to go… stay good for Aunt Florence, alright?" She pulled him into a very long, tight hug, pressing a kiss to his soft brown hair. His small arms were wound around her neck and she knew he was probably completely confused. As she tucked him back into bed, setting his comic aside, she left a letter in the pages as a bookmark a few tears running down her cheeks, she shut off the light saying, " Love you, Kenny."

" Love you too, Artie."

OOOO

The sun was rising brilliantly over the city and Art stared at the card in her hand. Some of the information had, indeed, been altered. The height was adjusted, as was the hair color; Arthur's was blond, hers was a shade of rich brown. The address was changed too; if she didn't live through the war, she'd like for her family to know. A deep chill did run through her when she thought about the whole not surviving idea. It was one of the biggest risks. And no one wanted to be killed. But she was taking the risk. And, as she walked towards a large group of soldiers, her new company, she cleared her throat and prepared to lower her voice when she spoke.

Art adjusted her rucksack and looked up at the morning sky, and at the city she was saying goodbye to. She sucked in a breath and joined ranks with the other soldiers. Life was about to get interesting.

_**Afterword:**__** I finally got it done. Don't know how good it is or if I should continue, but, there it is. I have so many ideas for everything later on in this story, how to start it gave me hell though. I've been wanting to write this story for a LONG time, and finally took time to sit down and plan. Well, let me know if you liked it, if you'd like me to continue. I appreciate you took time to read it, though! Thanks!**_

_** It'll get better, I promise! Stick around and see!**_

_**~Mary**_


	2. Death March

_Disclaimer:__ Don't own Captain America in any way (movie, show, comic etc.) or any of the characters, for they all belong to MARVEL and their creators. I only own my OC, Art, and her family._

**Quick Foreword: Okay, I used translating websites for the German in this. Honestly, I could go ask the people I'm close to who learned to speak said language, but I was too lazy to. So, forgive me if you know German and the words are horribly wrong. Thanks you guys! Read on!**

2. Death March

_**A Few Months Later…**_

" Sarge. Sarge. Hey, Arthur. Sergeant Kensington! Artie!" Came the voice of James 'Bucky' Barnes. Art, who'd been given the rank of Sergeant, was walking through the camp, distractedly beginning to wander, buts scuffing the muddy ground. She was ignoring Bucky's shouts to her, but suddenly he called out again. " Artie!" Finally she spun around to face him, face weary and annoyed.

" What is it, Barnes!" She spat at him in pure annoyance, voice disguised lower than her normal tone. She'd befriended Bucky shortly after arriving, and he helped her around when she was still new to everything; he still didn't suspect anything out of the ordinary with her, which was a relief to her. Her time in the military had honestly surprised her. Instead of being the quiet person she'd been back in New York, she had found herself speaking up just a bit more, which earned her more confidence than she'd had. And the result of her new found confidence was apparently having Colonel Phillips and Agent Peggy Carter to notice her… thus some how landing her the rank of Sergeant. Bucky, though also a Sergeant, loved to bug her by calling her 'Sarge.'

Smirking, the brunette man crossed his arms over his uniform shirt.

" You only call me Barnes when you're upset," Bucky pointed out, grinning boyishly. Art rolled her eyes and punched his arm as she started to walk again.

" Come on, _Barnes_, we have to gather the troops for our lovely suicide mission," Art mumbled, swiping a hand through her tangled short hair, which had been put into said state by stress. The early evening sky was greyer than ash with a drizzling rain that dampened everything. Almost everyone in the camp detested the weather, but some appreciated the fresh smell it brought along, washing away the smells of grime and burnt food they ate three times a day.

" What's gotten up your ass? You're usually fairly optimistic!" Bucky exclaimed, giving her an odd look. It was true; she was in an unusually bad mood, and she was usually smiling and laughing, which was one of he reasons Bucky liked her. She couldn't wait for the mission to be over so she could just… relax a bit. Art scrubbed a hand over her face, brows furrowing. Phillips had told them they were both leading a large group of men to fight two hundred of soldiers from HYDRA, a Nazi organization run by a man by the name of Johann Schmidt. They were headed to fend off the soldiers from an organization they knew barely anything about.

" Bucky, I just… I have a _bad_ feeling about this. We're marching to fight an army of two hundred people and we don't know whom we're dealing with _in general_ other than that they're Nazis and their incredibly dangerous. And may we not forget that half the men here would rather be smoking cigarettes and drinking beer than fighting in the rain," Art sighed. Bucky's warm hand patted her back strongly two times and a smirk that she was sure would become signature at some point appearing on his face.

" Come on, it isn't going to be _that_ bad! We'll march in, take 'em down, march back and report to Phillips." He laughed and nodded to the right. " I'll start rallying the men up on this half, you take the other side."

The two split up and began to call the men to get ready; they were planning to march in at night to attempt to take them by surprise. Art's stomach turned and twisted uneasily as she thought over the plan they'd been given. She was _sure_ something would go wrong. Maybe they'd be spotted through the trees and shot down immediately or someone would give them away by accidentally firing a gun; she wouldn't put said mistake past some of the men that were coming.

OOOO

" Heading out soon, Kensington?" Came Phillips' voice as Art stepped into an artillery tent to grab ammunition for the men. She looked up at him before directing her eyes downwards again.

" Of course, Sir," She replied dully, shifting a few boxes. " Though I do have my worries, Colonel."

" Worries? You never told me about any worries when we had our meeting."

" I was being respectful. I didn't want to appear out of place." Art fixed the rifle strapped on her back and faced the Colonel fully. Phillips arched a brow, his age worn face pulling into that strict look that matched his perfectly authoritative voice.

" You now have my permission to speak freely, Sergeant," Phillips told Art. He grasped his hands behind his back, waiting for her to speak. She sucked in a breath and looked off a moment before saying,

" I feel that this mission is a suicide mission; that it is beyond unsafe. What knowledge do we even _have_ about HYDRA? Very little from what I understand. Or maybe you just haven't or aren't able to tell us much about HYDRA, but I don't want to be leading _more than half_ of this entire regiment on a death march, Sir." Her voice was deadpanned, pushing back each amount of the temper she had back. That temper didn't disappear when she arrived in the military and it had always been the think that would lead her to breaking the rules, which hadn't happened yet, but there was always a first time for everything.

" Kensington, you're a good soldier. One of the better ones here, which why I made you Sergeant. I appreciate your concern for the men, but we're here to do one thing, and at the current moment we need to go fight those Nazis off," Phillips shot back, no compassion for her argument apparent in his voice.

" Sir! This is _suicide!_" Her brows furrowed and her temper flared. " I can guarantee not all of us will make it back."

" If you'd like to sit back here and have Barnes successfully lead this mission alone, be my guest, kid. I can prove you wrong when they come marching back to camp," Phillips said, gesturing to a chair in the side of the tent. Jaw tightening and eyes narrowing, she huffed a breath and snatched the crate of ammunition, marching from the tent. Phillips may be a good Colonel, but he sure as hell knew how to get the worst out of her. They all knew his strict policy on discipline, another reason Art prayed almost each day no one would discover she was female. She'd be kicked out and probably arrested within the hour it was discovered.

Art plopped the heavy crate into the mud and stood with arms crossed, waiting as men slowly began to show up. After a few dreary moments in the darkening light, she pulled something precious out of her right breast pocket. It was a folded up picture that was now crinkled and torn around the edges. Unfolding it, she stared at a photograph of herself and younger brother taken less than a month before she'd left to take Arthur's place. His grinning face peered up at her, laughter on his lips. She'd sent a letter to their aunt from camp, which allowed Florence to send her an extremely upset letter. She threatened to inform the authorities that she had snuck into the army, but quite obviously didn't. Art sent her three separate letters trying to calm her down and convince her she was perfectly fine and doing what she wanted to do. Florence, though still upset, seemed to give up and allow her niece to stay, knowing how much she had actually wanted to enlist… but that wouldn't stop her from raising hell when Art returned home.

" Ready?" Asked Bucky as he stepped beside her, wrinkled jacket loosely sitting on his frame. None of them ever wore their dress uniforms; the mud would ruin them and they were too much of a hassle to get on and off every single day. So, they wore an array of tan, green and brown uniforms, which were constantly mud and rain spattered.

" As I'll ever be, Bucky-Boy," She said, smirking at the nickname she'd given him once they'd become closer.

" Don't screw this up, Pretty Boy," He shot back with a smile of his own. The men had taken to calling Art Pretty Boy because of her initially quiet nature and angled cheekbones. It also didn't help whenever she was embarrassed the blush would show up bright pink on her fair skin.

" Hah, you're hilarious," She said with a roll of her eyes before calling the men to attention. " Alright, men!" She called out loudly. When less than a quarter of the group in front of her quieted she looked at Bucky, who gave a nod and cupped his hands around his mouth.

" Soldiers! Stand to!" He shouted, successfully winning the rest of the men's attention.

" Alright, we are heading out within the hour! Grab your guns, your ammunition, coats, hats, and smoke your last cigarettes! We don't need _anything_ giving us away. Meet at the edge of the camp in _ten minutes!_" Art called out, gesturing to the boxes of ammunition at her side.

" What happened to an hour?" Called out one man.

" It's getting dark fast, we have our best bet to move now and get there as fast as we can," Bucky pointed out. The men began to get everything ready, puffing on cigarettes and making jokes. The rain picked up slightly and the men began to grumble, tossing cigarette butts into the mud, squashing them out. The clouds darkened as somewhere beyond, the sun began to set. The mission was beginning.

OOOO

The fighting had been going on for less than an hour and a little less than half their men were dead on the ground. They tried hand-to-hand combat; it wasn't working as well as they'd hoped. They shot from a distance, but the HYDRA soldiers shot back. They had weapons Art had never seen before; they were big, bulky, dangerous and firing… _something_ far more deadly than bullets. Balls and jets of blue light or… plasma or _something _were fired from their guns, causing ground to explode or men to be propelled backwards forcefully.

The fighting was at a momentarily stand still as the two different sides of soldiers leaving a gap of ground between them. Suddenly, a blue jet of light moved to strike the ground in front of the line of U.S. soldiers.

" Down! Down!" Art shouted as she dove behind a truck nearby. She reloaded her gun and got on her knees, which squelched in the mud, and she pulled the rifle to her chest. She sucked in a few deep breaths glancing at the sky as some of her fellow soldier's shots rang out and a few extremely unfamiliar sounds rang out just before a few more explosions hit crates or the ground. Quickly leaning out around the truck, Art took a shot towards the nearest HYDRA soldier before leaning back around. The HYDRA men were gaining the advantage, gathering ground. They had more men and they were out numbered greatly.

Bucky's figure dove right next to her, narrowly avoiding a blue ball of… plasma or light that sped past, exploding against the wall, sending debris everywhere. The two soldiers covered their faces as shrapnel scratched their faces and hands.

" 'March right in' huh, Bucky?" She spat as she shot around the corner again.

" Okay, you were right! Is now really the time to be debating this, Artie!?" Bucky exclaimed as he shot over the top of a crate, shrinking back down to reload. Her once neatly combed brown locks were now flopping into her face and she could feel her chest bindings beginning to loosen slightly.

" Our men won't make it out if we don't make… _some_ sort of distraction," Art told him as a few screams rang out. Some of the HYDRA soldiers were attempting to drag their enemy soldiers from their hiding spots, strange weapons in hand.

" No. No, no, no, Artie, don't do it!" Bucky scolded just as his friend jumped to their feet and ran out from behind the shelter of the truck. The moment she was out in the open, she was dodging the warping blue balls of light, which she figured would kill her in the moment it hit her. Heart racing, she shot another HYDRA soldier who got too close. She would admit in a heartbeat that she was terrified.

" Kensington, you are _insane!_" Bucky shouted angrily as he slammed the butt of his gun into a HYDRA member's chest. " You'll get yourself killed!"  
" Better just me than half—Oof!" She found herself knocked to the ground forcefully by an enemy soldier. " Half the entire regiment! Everyone _fall back! Fall back! Retreat!_" Her voice carried through the battlefield… but the HYDRA soldiers didn't relent. 

To her dismay, as she had a weapon thrust into her face, her men were either killed off or dragged to be imprisoned. She stared up at the masked face above her. HYDRA soldiers wore all black uniforms with masked helmets and the red symbol of their organization emblazoned on their arms. The fact they couldn't see their faces and that they were so _emotionless_, made them even worse to deal with.

" _Halten,_" Came a strong voice. A man, in dress uniform, stepped forward, gloved hand held in a stopping motion. He had a hairline far back on his head, chestnut colored hair swept to the side and combed to stay there. He had dark, unforgiving eyes that peered down at her, his pale face pulled into a tight-lipped expression. " This one led them inside. Jumped straight into the firing zone." He had a thick German accent and his brow arched as he stared down at her. He gestured for her to be pulled up and restrained, which two spare guards did in a snap. The man, seemingly the leader, reached into the collar of Art's shirt and pulled out her dog tags. He scanned then and smirked slightly.

" Another Sergeant? Take him down with the other one, we will question them immediately. _Weitermachen,_" The man said, gesturing off to the base. She was marched away, weapons being pulled off her as they walked, her boot clad feet being dragged through the mud. Sighing, she shut her eyes. Looked like she probably wouldn't make it back to camp.

_**Afterword:**__** Second chapter up! Steve will show up next chapter, I promise! Well, we see that Art has made friends with Bucky and has gone and gotten herself captured as well. Art has a bit of a temper, and we'll see that normal side of her pretty soon!**_

_**REVIEW REPLIES!**_

**grapejuice101:**_ I'm glad you like it so far and I hope you enjoyed this! Thanks again!_

**a hobbit: **_Thanks! I'm glad you like it and hope you stick around to read more! Thanks again!_

**Aveline Archer:**_ Yeah, I wouldn't want to just sit around either; Art wanting to take a stand helped her make her decision to take Arthur's place. And apparently, she gained enough confidence to gain Sergeant rank. I hope you keep reading! I really enjoyed your Captain America story, had a great time reading it! Thanks again!_

**Guest:**_ Hope this update is good! Hope you keep reading too! Thanks again!_

**Rainy2000:**_ I cannot express how happy I am you like my writing style; I know some people who don't prefer it, but I'm glad there are people who do! And I hope my grammar is good, my father, who is an English teacher, would have nothing less! Hope you keep on reading! Thanks again!_

**And thank you to those who have read and added this to their favorites and their story alerts. It means a lot!**

_** Well, that's it for this chapter! I hope to get the next one up soon, I have time to draft and rewrite stuff a lot this week; despite having vacation I am at school rehearsing for my school's musical. Nine in the morning till five every night. WOO! XD Well, let me know how you liked the chapter! Thanks again, you guys!**_

_**~Mary**_


	3. Star Spangled Man

_Disclaimer:__ Don't own Captain America in any way (movie, show, comic etc.) or any of the characters, for they all belong to MARVEL and their creators. I only own my OC, Art, and her family._

3. Star Spangled Man

_**Some Time Later…**_

Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America, sat on the side of a makeshift stage at the camp in the dreary rain, sketching in his sketchbook. His 'uniform' was covered up by a pale army green trench coat and he enjoyed the sound of the rain through the now quiet camp. After doing so many shows, so many pictures… he was glad to not be hearing, '_The Star Spangled Man with a plan!_' every few seconds. Sure, the men here were being bitter, sarcastic and rather rude, but who could blame them? They're sitting in cramped quarters to each other, watching _him_, a 'super soldier' in a skin tight spangled suit, smiling and telling them to help him 'sock old Adolf on the jaw.' Steve sighed to himself and continued to draw on the blank page. He just… wanted to _fight_; they probably had all the right to tease him. What had happened to those dreams he had of defending his country? They'd probably gone flying out the window once he stepped onto the stage.

He'd once been a short, scrawny Brooklyn boy who got beat up in every alley in the city; now he was tall, extremely well muscled and was stronger than any normal person could ever dream of. He blew a strand of blond hair out of his blue eyes and stared at the drawing of the monkey in the Captain America suit he'd done. It was sitting on a unicycle that dipped in the middle of a tightrope, open umbrella in hand. He felt exactly like that. A performing monkey.

" Hello, Steve," Said a pleasantly English accented female voice amidst the grumble of thunder. Steve's brows rose and he looked to his left, spotting none other than Peggy Carter. A coat was bent over her arms and her bright red lipstick stood out in the monotone lighting.

" Hi," He replied, sounding surprised to see her.

" Hi."

" What are you doing here?" He asked. Peggy walked over to his seat on the steps and cast her wide brown eyes down to her shoes as she sat on the rise of the stage a few feet away.

" Officially, I'm not here at all. That was quite a performance." Steve, looking fairly embarrassed, looked off, unsure of how to respond. Does he say thank you? Does he just shrug it off? He rubbed his nose as he replied.

" Yeah… uh… I had to improvise a little bit. The crowds I'm used to are a little more, uh… twelve." His voice was flat as he spoke and his brows were creased slightly. Peggy arched a brow slightly.

" And I understand you are 'America's New Hope,'" She told him, folding her hands on her skirted lap.

" Bond sales take a ten percent bump in every state I visit."

" Is that Senator Brandt I hear?"

There was a pause where only rain splattered noisily.

" At least he's got me doing this. Phillips would've had me stuck in a lab," The American pointed out, finally looking back at the beautiful woman beside him.

" And these are your only two options?" Peggy inquired, head tilted. " A lab rat or a dancing monkey?" She nodded to his sketchbook, which sat solemnly on the step beside him. " You were meant for more than this, you know." As silence passed between them again, a muscle jumped in Steve's jaw as he thought about her words… Something more… " What?"

" You know for the longest time, I dreamed about… coming over seas and being on the front lines… serving my country. I finally got everything I wanted…" He directed his worn blue eyes up at the sky. " And I'm wearing _tights_."

The bleating of a car horn disrupted their conversation, causing them to look towards the medical tent. An ambulance rolled to a stop on the muddy ground, a small group of men rushing to open the back of the green truck. Men began to be lifted from the ambulance on stretchers, faces bloody, scratched and some limbs at awkward angles. Steve sighed quietly and looked at the pain that crossed their faces.

" They look like they've been through Hell," He said.

" These men more than most." Her answer was nothing less than rather cryptic. When Steve's probing eyes turned to her, she shifted uncomfortably. What had happened wasn't a pleasant subject… " Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men went up against him and less than fifty returned. Your audience contained what was left of the one-oh-seventh." _The one-oh-seventh…_ Steve thought. " The rest were captured or killed."

_Bucky was part of the one-oh-seventh,_ Steve reminded himself in a panic, heart beginning to thrum faster. His head snapped to look over at Peggy.

" The one-oh-seventh?" He finally asked out loud, his panic leaking into his words. Peggy looked at him curiously.

" What?" She asked.

Before she could get a response, Steve was on his feet, sketchbook pocketed and his red boots squelching into the mud. Knowing nothing else than to just follow, Peggy rushed after him, attempting to open her umbrella as they ran into the downpour. Steve ran his way to a mostly open-air tent where Phillips was doing the strenuous job of doing the worst sort of paperwork—writing letters to families who would be receiving the horrendous news of a lost loved one.

" Colonel Phillips," Steve stead breathlessly as he stopped in front of his superior's desk.

" Well, if it isn't the Star Spangled Man With A Plan. What is your plan today?" He asked in one breath, staring up at the blond man. Steve's coat was now buttoned and his hair was no longer as cleanly kept as it had been before the rain pelted it. It was darkened a shade or so and beads of water ran down his neck.

" I need the casualty list from Azzano."

" You don't get to give me orders, son."

" I just need one name: Sergeant James Barnes from the hundred and seventh," Steve replied in an even tone, having regained his composure. If there was only one thing he could ask for—pray for—it was to have Bucky's name be absent from that list. Phillips' eyes slid slowly to Peggy, and he pointed his pen at her.

" You and I will have a conversation later that you _won't_ enjoy," He warned her. She lowered her head lightly, the disheveled rich brown curls of her hair loosening from their pins.

" Please tell me if he's alive, Sir. B-A-R—"

" I can spell." A pause ensued as the two men just stared at each other, one leaning against a desk, the other standing ramrod straight and stiff. Phillips' expression suddenly became solemn as he pushed away from his desk, holding a file in hand. He turned to begin to sort through some papers, finding a proper place for everything. " I've signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But…" He turned towards Steve. " The name does sound familiar. I'm sorry."

His heart slammed to a shuddering stop. Bucky was gone. One of the last people he counted as family just… gone. He didn't want to imagine what fate he met, that was too terrible to think about. Mind slipping away from him, Steve glanced away from the Colonel, lips parted slightly in shock. _The rest were captured or killed._ Peggy's words ran through his head. So… some of them could still be alive _somewhere_.

" What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?"

" Yeah! It's called 'winning the war,'" Phillips said with fake enthusiasm, which he didn't bother to try and bring to his weathered face. Steve's brows furrowed.

" But if you know where they are, at least send—"

" They're _thirty miles_ behind the lines through some of the most heavily territory in Europe." Phillips was staring at a large map where locations and lines had been marked off with American flag pins and string, and the known HYDRA base was marked with a black triangle, a white capital 'H' in the center of it." We'd loose more men than we'd save. But I don't expect you to understand that because you're a chorus girl," He told the younger man, tone flat yet biting. Steve's face mostly cleared as he felt anger slowly flush through him.

" I understand just fine," He replied in an almost challenging tone. Phillips repressed the urge to scoff.

" Well, then, understand it somewhere else. If I read the posters correctly, you've got some place to be in thirty minutes." Phillips swiftly took his leave, allowing Steve a good look at that map… He stared at the HYDRA pin and felt his mind whir into planning. He currently didn't give a damn what the Colonel wanted to do. He wasn't about to let dozens of men suffer cruel deaths. And if that meant disobeying higher orders… so be it. Eyeing the location of the pin one last time, he moved towards the exit of the tent saying,

" Yes, Sir. I do."

OOOO

The room was cold and unforgiving with dim lighting and a metal door. Art sat on the floor, locked in a cage similar to the ones the rest of the soldiers were to be locked into; being a sergeant, it was immediately thought that she would know and give up information willingly, so she and Bucky were brought to the HYDRA base quicker than the others. If the enemy soldiers had been given a way to decide who to take first, neither American knew, because Bucky was hauled off and Art was shoved into her current prison.

Forehead resting on the icy metal bars, Art stared at her unmoving hands. Dirt and sweat streaked her face, neck, arms and hands and the occasional cut graced itself on her pale flesh. She couldn't count how long she'd been kept in the hellish confines of the bars… days, but how many, she didn't know. There were no windows to the outside world, so any sign of sunlight to determine time of day was impossible… perhaps that was the idea. She'd taken to trying to rattle the door to loosen the hinges… but that would take more strength than she possessed to work. So, as she had stood and paced, isolated from the world, she eventually began to lose hope of getting out. That was the reason she now sat hunched on the floor, back arched uncomfortably, joints stiff, breathing slow and her once pristinely combed hair falling tangled into her face in a stringy mess.

_Great idea all this was, huh, Artemesia?_ She thought spitefully, lifting a hand to rub her face. Slowly, that hand went to her left breast pocket and she removed the photograph. She'd swapped pockets so it rested over her heart; she unfolded the photo and stared down at it again. Her brother's smiling face stared right back and she wanted to return it to the image… but her facial muscles were refusing to work for her. She felt her heart wrench when she looked at how happy Kenneth looked… so she looked away and at the door, which only opened when silent guards came to give her what was supposed to be food. It looked more like muddy, grey slop and she refused to poke it with a ten-foot stick.

Something in her head told her that Aunt Florence was right, that she shouldn't have come… should have stayed home and read to Kenny before bed every night… Something she probably wouldn't get to do again… she'd waste away in the hands of HYDRA…

_ No. Don't give up just yet,_ a voice in her head told her. _You __**are**__ going to get back and read to him again. All you have to do is __**stand**__._

Gritting her teeth, Art stood, albeit slowly. All of her joints began to crack; her shoulders popped, her knees snapped, her ankles groaned and she gripped the bars on her left to hold herself up… she hadn't straightened her back yet. Painfully, she began to right herself, her vertebrae pulling and popping back into their proper places. She groaned and shut her eyes, blowing out a breath.

" Oh… Never sit still for an extended period of time…" She muttered to herself, letting go of the bars. Her balance wobbled and she leaned against the iron rods for a moment, slowly massaging another crick out of her neck.

_THUD._

That was a sound she hadn't heard in her time in confinement. Art had heard talking and deep chuckles, keys rattling and guns reloaded, but thudding? Definitely new. She inched her way towards the front of her cage, taking measured steps without the aid of the bars, unsure of what was about to happen. The door lock clicked as someone outside opened it… and Art prepared herself to yell at whatever guard was coming to harass her or beat information at her, but stopped short when she realized that it wasn't a HYDRA soldier.

The man walking into the room wore a tan leather jacket over a peculiar—but familiar—outfit. It was blue with a large white star on the center of the chest, and down the stomach here vertical white and red stripes. The pants, closer to tights in her opinion, were blue as well and red boots encased his feet. Something that looked like a shield was strapped to his back and he held a gun in gloved hands. Art blinked for a moment, eyeing the man warily.

" I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you," She said as he shut the door.

" You're right on that point," The man told her, walking towards the cage, a set of keys in hand. She noted his accent; he was an American like herself.

" I'd be pleased to know you're going to let me out."

" I am."

" And who would be doing that kind favor?" Art asked curiously.

" Steve Rogers… Captain America," Steve said, as if he didn't quite believe that title himself… and truth be told, he didn't. Her eyes widened as she looked him over again. She spotted the blue helmet on his head—adorned with a white letter 'A' and a pair of goggles—and the concern his face held. His bright blue eyes looked right back at her as if asking for her to trust him. She noted the way the light created shadows on his cheekbones and that sweat began to bead on his skin. Clearing her throat slightly, she looked away; men didn't tend to stare at each other and observe just how attractive the other was. She mentally slapped herself for that comment.

" Captain America…" She mused quietly. " Stranger things have happened. Sergeant Arthur Kensington." She stuck a dirtied hand through the bars for him to shake. With slight hesitation, Steve took her hand and shook it with a nod.

" Sergeant."

" It's the smallest key by the way," Art told him, pointing to the small silver key on the ring he held. Quickly jamming it into the lock, Steve twisted it and allowed the door to swing open. " I'm guessing Phillips sent you?"

" Not quite. I've gotten the other men free, but I'm looking for someone. Sergeant James Barnes," Steve said, a tone of hope in his voice as Art stepped out, heading for a cabinet in the corner of the room. She arched a brow as she crouched to open it. She sent a glance over her shoulder.

" Bucky?"

" If he likes to crack jokes…"

" And act like a smart-ass on occasion? Yeah, he's here. I haven't seen him for a couple of days though. Should be somewhere around here… I hope…" Art grabbed her personal affects from the cabinet—a gun and a few extra bullets—and rose to her feet. Her new acquaintance nodded stiffly. She could tell by the way he was now fidgeting slightly that he knew Bucky well. They were probably friends from back home… Didn't he mention something about a Steve once?

" I'm going to find him; I've told the men to meet me in a clearing outside of the camp. If you can help them escape, I'll meet you there with Bucky," Steve said as Art readied her gun.

" Of course, Captain. Best of luck to you," She told him.

" And you as well."

The two parted through the door, Art pointing down a long hall she'd seen Bucky dragged down. Her pace started slowly. She didn't want her knees to give way seeing as they were still creaking tiredly from when she'd been curled up. Progressing into a jog, she hugged the walls and paused at corners, clearing them before continuing on. Thick smoke drifted from the factory area, which Schmidt had begun to self-destruct moments ago. The nearest door was ajar, sounds of gunfire and hissing echoing outside. Her heart pounded as she bolted through the doorway, immediately having to duck behind some crates to avoid getting blasted with a hissing ball of blue energy. Jumping back up and favoring her stronger right leg, she shot the soldier who'd fired towards her and continued her way through the war-zone of the tank-yard.

Faces of other men in the one-oh-seventh ran about snatching up weapons and knocking out HYDRA men. They were doing well—better than Schmidt would have ever expected. Art grabbed a nearby soldier and when he spun to face her, she noted that it was Timothy Dugan in all his thick mustached glory.

" Sergeant?" He asked in surprise.

" I know, it's great to see you too, but lets save the pleasantries for later. We need to get out of here and _fast_. Do whatever you need to do, you understand? Hell, take one of the tanks," She told him, nodding to one of the massive vehicles close by. A grin slowly stretched on Dugan's face.

" Yes, Sir," He agreed as they jumped and dodged more enemy fire. With a shove from Art, he took his leave. Art spun around and shot another HYDRA soldier, who'd had his back turned. She had about two bullets left.

A HYDRA soldier spotted her once her back was turned; a perfect shot. He raised his gun and it made a whirring sound as it powered up. A nearby explosion knocked the man down just as the gun fired, the course of the energy ball veering downwards. That was when Art felt the burning on her hand. That was when something exploded in the ground and sent her reeling onto her back. The wind was knocked out of her and her vision blurred. It might have been minutes till she regained a sitting position, ears ringing. The world was on slow motion; things blurred when they moved and shouts sounded like whispers. Eyes moving to her throbbing right hand, she saw that it was completely red with blood, the skin burnt and torn. She had never been faint at the sight of blood, but her stomach turned at the sight and the pain.

Rolling to her knees, everything rushed back too suddenly. Explosions went off, men screamed, guns stuttered out deathly rounds and her breath pulled forcefully into her lungs.

" Artie!" One of her men shouted, drawing her attention to a group of HYDRA soldiers marching towards her with serious faces. She couldn't shoot—her left hand was shaking and her right could barely move. So, looking frantically about, she spotted a grenade in the hand of a dead man. She snatched with her uninjured hand and put the pin to her teeth, yanking it out with a jerk of her head. A quick toss rid herself of the device and moments later, it exploded, riding herself of the enemies that had been coming for her.

_Come on, get up, get up…_ She thought to herself as each leg slowly moved to get her to stand. Her body ached the way that it would if you fell off a moving bus. She knew she had to get out before anyone could take advantage of her disoriented state. Art spotted that the walls of the base had been blasted apart and a tank was rolling through the fire and smoke away from the enemy. She smirked. _That's it, boys…_

" Men, _move out!_" She shouted as loudly as she could, getting the remaining men to start to move. A helpful soldier helped her run the first few steps before she could handle it herself, casting the base one last look as she prayed to God that Bucky would get out safe, with Captain America, the so far very kind Steve Rogers, right at his side.

_**Afterword:**__** Finally got this one done! Life decided to be rude—I have so much schoolwork and rehearsals and what not—and I was prevented from writing for a while. But I FINALLY got this up. **_

_** Art and Steve met! YES! Next chapter will pick up just before they get back to camp, and then everything gets more interesting as it progresses! **_

_**REVIEW REPLIES!**_

** .Fanfic:**_ I'm glad you like it so far! And she finally met Steve! A bit of an odd way to meet… locked in a cage and all that, but hey, it had to happen sometime! I hope you enjoyed! Thanks again!_

**FreeSpiritSeeker:**_ Art definitely has a personality about her XD We saw her pissed side last time and pretty soon we'll see that joking, happy side Bucky always saw. I hope you enjoyed the chapter (Steve! YAY!) and thanks again!_

**Aveline Archer:**_ No problem, I really enjoyed your story! And I always thought I sucked at battle scenes XD I'm so extremely happy you're enjoying this so far and think Art is kickass! I think we'd get along too… and Bucky is pretty awesome! Gotta love 'im! Anyway, thanks again and hope you enjoyed the chapter!_

**a hobbit:**_ I'm glad you're enjoying it so far! Thanks again and hope you enjoyed!_

**Whyna Katran:**_ Don't worry about it! School can be evil. Like… really evil, trust me, right now it's kicked my ass all the way to Asgard (not totally unpleasant) and then dragged me back to face its horrors again… And I'm glad the German was okay, both my parents speak it but I was way too lazy to ask them… XD Anyway, thanks again and I hope you enjoyed!_

**SummerAngelz:**_ I'm glad you like the story so far and sorry for the late update! Thanks again and hope you enjoyed!_

**luneara eclipse:**_ I'm glad you like the plot idea! I wanted to write a Steve/OC story from the moment I saw the Avengers (I was a bit late on Captain America XD) and once I watched through Captain America a few times I got the idea and it took me a while to figure it all out XD But I'm happy you're enjoying it so far and I hope you enjoyed! Thanks again!_

**Frostivy:**_ It would have been helluva worse if Schmidt found out she was a woman! Good thing they haven't so far! I'm glad you like the plot, too! Thanks again, hope you enjoyed!_

_**And thank you to those who read and added this to their story alerts/favorites. It means a lot to me! Love ya all!**_

_** And that is it for this particular chapter! It feels good to update this time and sorry on the delay for it! Let me know what you guys think and if you have anything you'd like to see in future chapters! Thanks again you guys!**_

_**~Mary **_


	4. Bonds

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own Captain America (the books, comics, films etc.) or any of the characters; I only own Art, my OC._

4. Bonds

Art grimaced as she cradled her injured hand against her stomach; she was leaning against a tree that stretched up into the misty sky, which was lightening as morning drew closer. Blood was trickling across her inflamed skin and it ached and stung something awful. She'd considered ripping off the hem of her shirt to wrap it up in, but that risked someone seeing the bindings she used on her chest. So… the only option left was to deal with the pain till they got back to camp with a proper medic.

The atmosphere was tense. Men were still arriving in small clusters, arms slung around each other to help their comrades limp along, and somewhere off in the distance, they drove a few of the HYDRA tanks to take back to base camp. Art looked at the surrounding forest, hoping to catch a glimpse of her friend and her acquaintance; as soon as they returned, they could get a move on again.

" Oi, Sergeant, when are we gonna leave this blasted forest?" Dugan called out. Art slowly looked up at him with a stern look frozen upon her face.

" Soon."

Dugan grumbled at the response he received and adjusted his bowler hat, shuffling off to talk with his buddies. As the minutes ticked on, Art began to get increasingly nervous; what if they hadn't made it out? What if they'd been lost in that explosion that had wracked the forest a good ten minutes ago? For days she thought Bucky had been dead, and now he might actually be along with his blond haired friend, who she now owed her life to. Groaning, she slid down the tree trunk to sit at its base. The worry and pain she felt were definitely not a good mix; Art's stomach was starting to churn unpleasantly, making her pinch the bridge of her nose with her uninjured hand.

They were going to have to get moving soon, hell knew how many HYDRA soldiers had scattered into the forest… She was going to have to assume the worst…

" Not lookin' too good, are you, Sarge?" an all-too familiar voice asked. Head shooting up, Art spotted none other than Bucky slowly walking towards her, Steve by his side.

" You're alive," she muttered. Bucky was covered in grime and his clothes were in horrible condition; cuts marked up his skin every so often, inflamed but surprisingly minor. Black soot dusted his entire body, which led her to believe that they hadn't completely cleared the explosion. He somehow managed to pull that typical smirk onto his chapped and cracked lips and meet her eyes.

" No thanks to Steve here," he replied, patting his friend on the back, who looked slightly sheepish at the attention. Steve looked a little more worse for wear; his leather jacket harshly burned—the holes and scorches on it would never be able to be fixed. Soot streaked his face and his red white and blue uniform, which took a bit of a beating as well.

" Well thank God you're both alright," Art told them, making a horrible attempt to stand since her legs still shook and she could only use one hand. Steve, being the kind hearted man he was, held out a gloved hand to assist her, which she happily accepted. The Captain took notice of the hand his new acquaintance cradled, and his eyebrows rose with concern.

" You alright? Looks like you took a bit of a beating," he said, nodding to her injury.

" It's nothing compared to some of the other men, who we should get back to camp as quickly as possible."

" Yes, we should, but take a moment to think about yourself, alright? Are you injured anywhere else?" Steve arched a brow, authority leaking into his voice. Art brushed bracken from her hand on the fabric of her pants, shaking her head. " You're sure you can walk?"

" He made it all the way here, I'm sure he'll be fine," Bucky told Steve, looking at the Sergeant, " Artie here is tough as nails."

OOOO

The group of returning soldiers made their way back towards camp with Steve leading them; he just so happened to be the only one who knew where they were going. The men were all on the alert as they walked along a dusty dirt road, which gratefully meant they were very close to camp. Steve had a determined stride about his walk; this was one of the first times he felt like he'd been able to make a change in something. Phillips hadn't been about to march into that camp and get the men back himself, so the knowledge that _he_, a boy from Brooklyn, had been able to do such a thing successfully seemed to boost his courage.

And thinking about courage, he glanced at Art beside him; the Sergeant could be no older or younger than Steve, and definitely stepped up to the plate when it came to being ready to help others. His name was... Artie... no... Arthur Kensington, right? Well, whether that was his name or if his mind was just playing tricks on him, Steve definitely wanted to get to know him more. Arthur must be a good guy, or at least a decent one... Bucky seemed to be okay with him.

The camp began to come into view, and everyone remained practically silent, the night having worn them all down. The sun was inching its way across the sky, shining through clouds and shimmering on morning dew. The partition blocking the road was immediately lifted for them as every man in the camp lined either side of their patch, grinning at the return of their supposedly lost friends. Men who were too injured to walk sat atop the HYDRA tanks or were supported by friends as they limped along. Everyone was dirty and most had streaks of blood somewhere on their skin whether it had been theirs or someone elses; most held guns at the ready, straps slung across their backs.

Steve still led the way, a very determined look on his face, looking at Bucky as everyone clapped and let out excited whoops. He sent a friendly tap onto his shoulder, a smile briefly pulling up one corner of his mouth. The returning group met Phillips halfway through the camp, where they stopped walking. Steve raised a hand in a salute, meeting Phillips' eyes.

" Some of these men need medical attention," Steve said before adding, " I'd like to surrender myself for disciplinary action." Phillips looked over all of his returning soldiers, who were battered and bruised but _alive_.

" That won't be necessary," he replied, a smile beginning to pull on his lips. 'Show girl' or not, Steve Rogers brought his men back and he had to be thankful for that. The Captain returned the smile and nodded.

" Yes, sir."

Phillips looked over at Art, who was sliding her rifle to rest on her back. Their gazes met and he gave a mere nod, that she wanted to take as a 'maybe I should have listened' sort of gesture. The colonel turned away and said something to Peggy, who'd been standing behind him before he melted into the sea of excited soldiers, blending in with the tan and green uniforms. Said woman stepped up to Steve and looked him straight in the eye.

" You're late," she told him in a terse manner. Steve smirked slightly and looked down, grabbing something off his belt. He held up a destroyed communicator and simply said,

" Couldn't call my ride." Peggy smirked at the boyish smile on Steve's face. Art sucked in a deep breath and let it out before meeting Bucky's eyes. He smirked and suddenly turned his head to look over his shoulder.

" Hey!" he shouted, earning everyone's attention. " Let's hear it for Captain America!"

The entirety of the camp had gathered in a crowd around Steve and they then began to clap and cheer fervently for the man who saved them. Steve looked around, unable to believe everyone was praising _him_. Glancing at Bucky, his friend gave him a smile, clapping as well. He looked to Art on his other side, who was smiling and clapping despite the injured hand. Everyone was proud of him, excited to praise him... So... this was what being a hero felt like...

OOOO

That evening, as the medic bandaged up her hand, Art ground her teeth together at the stinging. With all the blood wiped off, she saw just how bad her hand was burned-the skin was a bright inflamed pink and the cut on the back of her hand had already been stitched together. A layer, maybe two, of skin was gone and Art figured that the bandages would be necessary for a while. She was sure that an array of scars would be left behind, but only time would truly tell. The man wrapping her hand eyed her fingers with a very slight and rather odd curiosity. A tiny smirk crossed his lips and he looked up at the sergeant sitting in front of him.

" You've got girly hands, you know," he told Art, which caused her head to snap towards him with enough force to add whiplash to her list of injuries.

" What?" she questioned, hoping maybe her ears were damaged and misheard his statement.

" Your hands. They look like ladies' hands; small, you know? Barely calloused too. Jesus, man, what did you do before you joined the army?" the doctor asked with a good-natured laugh, clearly joking. Art relaxed somewhat and forced a short chuckle, which sounded slightly strained. But, the conversation made her draw her own attention to her hands; where they had once been completely soft and smooth, they were now dry like old book pages and calloused from hard work. Her nails were now cracked and dirt and blood were caked underneath them from the recent fighting. Yes, her hands were smaller than those of the men around her, yes her fingers were long and thin, and of _course_ they had been subject to teasing when she first arrived, but they weren't that noticeable... were they?

The bandage wrapping her hand was tugged a few times, which brought her thoughts as she realized her hand was wrapped up and tied tight.

" Come back in a day or two for new bandages; try not to get it too wet either," the doctor sounded as if he were reciting a rehearsed monologue. And it was. He'd said such things to dozens of other soldiers after fixing up their wounds, which were usually of the minor sort. He had nothing but consoling words for those with the more serious ones. Art's lips twitched into a small smile of thanks before she stood and left, gently holding her hand in the uninjured one.

The sky looked as if it were a dismally sewn quilt composed by different patches of grey and black. Rain threatened to fall, as usual, and all Art wanted to do was sit down and forget about where she was for just a minute... just to have a minute of peace to calm her mind and her heart, which hadn't slowed down since escaping the HYDRA headquarters. So, dismissing all the calls to join others to swap stories, she headed for the camp's edge, shivering slightly in the cooling evening air.

Guard duty was a solitary job; one had to get used to sitting alone and enjoying their own thoughts for company; that was exactly why Art relieved the guard of his post and took it instead. She wanted that time alone; Art didn't quite want to hear the horror stories of those who'd nearly had a leg blown off while she got away easy with a burnt up hand. She'd seen the me in the medical tent-they had bandages covering wounds on their faces and their clothes with filthy with dirt and spatters of their own blood. They groaned because they were either in immense pain from a major injury (whether it be a missing limb or a massive gash) or because they just wanted to leave. To go home and see their families.

A rifle sat across Art's knees, ready to be fired should she see anyone exit the misty forest. The crate she had seated herself on was damp with rain water but she couldn't bring herself to care much about that. No, she wanted to push her thoughts away from the last few days events and just... listen to the silence... or what she deemed as silence; she could hear her fellow soldiers barking out tails over their dinner.

" It's a bit lonely out here," said a familiar voice. Twisting her head to glance to the left, Art spotted Steve walking towards her, hands in the pockets of his military green coat. He'd been given a set of normal uniform pants and a green button down shirt, which looked just as good on him as the Captain America uniform had.

_Stop thinking like that, you're in a war, not back home,_ she reprimanded herself, forcing any such thoughts back into the back of her mind. She smiled slightly and shrugged at his words.

" Needed some time away from the other fellas; swapping war stories isn't really my forte," she admitted, laying a hand on the end of her rifle. Steve smiled and chuckled slightly, standing beside her makeshift seat.

" Seems like a good reason." Steve pointed to the bandages on the sergeant's hand. " How's the hand?"

" Hm? Oh." Art raised it with a wry smirk on her lips. " I suppose it'll be getting better soon. I made it out practically unscathed compared to some of the other men..." she muttered, smirk falling into an almost guilty expression. There was a long moment of silence as Steve watched emotion pass over Art's face; he figured it would probably be best to step off the subject of the HYDRA base situation. " So… Captain America. How does one become Captain America?" Her voice was curious and playful at the same time, making a smile try to pull on her lips. Steve chuckled and shrugged, not sure about how to answer.

" It was, uh, luck, really. A whole lot of luck… Besides, the title 'Captain' is just for show; you know, just to rile up people's feelings and build confidence," Steve replied with a shrug. Art arched a brow and gave him a serious look.

" After what you did last night and today, I think that said title may become real, buddy," she said seriously, lips twitching up in a smile. Steve felt his cheeks heat up just a fraction at the possibility of becoming a real captain…

" So, uh, Bucky told me you're from New York?" he said, awkwardly changing the subject. Art turned her face up towards him and, no matter how much she would have been trying to push it away, a smile was coaxing her lips upwards. She nodded in confirmation. " I'm from Brooklyn myself."

" Really?" she asked curiously, the smile finally creeping across her face. Steve smiled as well, thinking back to his home.

" Yeah; I practically know the place like the back of my hand-every café, every parking lot... every alley..." his voice drifted off towards a distasteful tone at the mention of 'every alley.' It would be hard to forget where he'd been beaten up before when he was scrawny. He shook his head and sat down beside her on another crate. He met her gaze and smiled a bit again. " And it's odd, after traveling around so much, you really start to miss all of the buildings."

A fond smile pulled up Art's lips as she sat up straighter and looked off into the woods.

" Yeah... especially when you're _here_, surrounded by trees and military vehicles. You even begin to miss the grumpy businessmen and the near death experiences that are exclusive to the city." A laugh was beginning to form as a rather adorable bewildered look crossed the blond soldier's face.

" Near death experiences?"

" What, you've never been almost run over by a taxi?" Art laughed, smiling fully for the first time in a while; the muscles in her face were thankful that she was no longer frowning or lost in deep thought about never seeing her brother again-it was rather taxing. Steve laughed as well; while he never personally almost got hit by a taxi, he'd seen such close encounters happen before.

For the next hour or so, the two swapped stories about their beloved cities and their lives in them among other tales they were using to get to know the other; if there was one thing both of them were thankful for as the night wore on that would the fact they'd been able to laugh and smile-it was becoming a rarity in the increasingly serious times. Art found she truly liked this Steve Rodgers fella-he was extremely caring and kind and held a passion for what they were fighting for. It was a passion that was rather rare to find among the ragtag-but charming-soldiers they were surrounded by. There was something about him that was just completely interesting too. He had this awkwardness about him that one wouldn't expect him to have; it was, for lack of a better word, endearing, and it was something her feminine mind wasn't about to let go.

Steve discovered that Bucky's judgement about Arthur-or Art or Artie as he'd insisted on being called-was right. He was a stand up guy who cared for the soldiers in the camp. And despite the collected, controlled and focused demeanor Art had when they'd first met, he had a sense of humor and a rather positive attitude. But, like the way Art felt there was something about Steve she couldn't let go, Steve felt the same way about her. There was something about the sergeant's face that was just... he couldn't put a finger on it. The artist inside his head convinced him it was the way his cheekbones were angled or the slope of his nose that just set it aside from everyone elses...

Or he was tired. He was just very, very tired after a long day of nearly dying.

_**Afterword:**__** Trust your instincts Steve. Trust those instincts! Okay, sorry about the late update! Life got in the way what with my shows and the end of the year testing; but I'm on break now, so that's a plus! Sorry if this chapter seems weird. I think it was that awkward transition chapter of going from JUST following Art to starting her and Steve's friendship. I thought the ending was a bit odd, but they had to start bonding some how, and why not through their common cities?**_

_**REVIEW REPLIES!**_

**FreeSpiritSeeker:**_ I'm glad you liked the chapter! Thank you so much and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!_

**luneara eclipse:**_ Yeah, I think that having her get out with an injury was pretty realistic; war is not a pretty or easy affair. I'm glad you liked the last chapter too! Thank you so much and I hope you enjoyed!_

**Frostivy:**_ I'm glad you liked the grenade trick! And now Steve and Art are bonding! WOO! Now we just wait for him to find out she is, in fact, a woman… we'll see how that goes XD I hope you enjoyed! Thanks again!_

**Aveline Archer:**_ I'm really glad you enjoyed it! Steve definitely gains maturity during this half of the movie, and it is still so much fun to write! I'm glad you're still enjoying and hope you read more! Thanks again!_

**WolfishPennings:**_ I'm glad you've been enjoying it! Thanks again! _

**MareBearSquared:**_ It will definitely get interesting, especially when people find out Art's a woman XD I hope you stick around to read more! Thanks again and I hope you enjoyed!_

**koolgirl1301:**_ Bonding time for this chapter! The next one will hopefully be up sooner, but I hope you're enjoying! Thanks again!_

**Tayler Snape13:**_ I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again so much!_

_**And thank you to those who have read and added this to your favorites/story alerts; it means a lot to me! **_

_** That's it for this chapter! I'm finally on summer break, so I hope I update more. I will, however, be camping for a few days this week, so nothing will be posted TOO soon. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter regardless! Feel free to leave a review or PM me with any questions or such things! Thanks again!**_

_**~Mary**_


	5. Drinks All Around

_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Captain America (comics, movies, shows, books etc.) or any of the characters. I only own my OC, Art, and her family._

5. Drinks All Around

Art woke up bright and early before everyone else, as per usual. It gave her time to do things like shower and change before the rest of the men were up and about. A yawn broke out across her face as she rolled to sit on the edge of her cot; it creaked at the shift of weight, causing Bucky to grunt from his cot beside her. She shared the tent with him and a two other officers, whom she'd gotten used to during her time at the camp. Her eyelids were heavy and begging her to lay down and give back in to sweet sleep, but she wasn't going to.

A shower was first on her agenda. She stepped out of her tent, boot squelching into the muddy ground. It had been nearing a week and a half since returning from the HYDRA base; injuries were slowly but surely healing, and, like Art predicted, Steve gained the _actual_ rank of Captain. He was a legitimate military officer now. He would be staying with the one-oh-seventh, much to Bucky's enthusiasm, which rubbed off on Art. She really did like the Captain. Whenever dinner started and said man was around, he sat with the two sergeants and they talked over their food. Despite the moments of shyness, Steve liked to smile and was, if Art had no other word for it, he was sweet.

The morning air was cold, and when she got to the showers, she ran a hand through her already sleep-mussed hair and flicked the shower on. Art pulled off her white t-shirt and stared down at the bandages on her chest for a long moment. Every morning she tightened them to flatten her chest out appropriately. She'd gotten used to the restrictions they gave her, especially when running and fighting, but the initial tightness when rewrapped was always uncomfortable. Reaching behind herself, Art found the tight knot amidst the bandages and yanked a couple of times till it came loose, giving her the chance to unwrap them.

" Oh, thank God..." she whispered to herself as the bandages fell away. Her chest ached from being wrapped up for _so long_. It was always like that-she'd wrap her chest up for days at a time, and when the bandages were unbound, she ached unpleasantly. But she put up with it so she could stay there as Sergeant Arthur Kensington, fighting off Nazis and HYDRA soldiers alike.

OOOO

By the time the sun was up, Art was sitting outside, book in hand, glasses perched on her nose, and uncombed hair falling onto her forehead. She realized that her comb hadn't been in the bag she'd brought with her, so not wanting to wake Bucky or any of the others up, she sat herself down and decided to read. Men were milling about, getting ready for the day with yawns and groans. Sliding a hand into her short hair, she flipped a page in her book and didn't notice the figure stepping towards her.

Steve had started out his morning looking for Bucky; but seeming as said man was apparently still asleep, the moment he spotted Art, that was who his attention was drawn to. They were becoming fast friends, he had to admit that; the guy was easy to get along with. Steve knew about his family-a younger brother back home named Kenneth, who happened to be a fan of Captain America; that made him chuckle, a faint heat rising to his cheeks at the mention of a fan. It was still a difficult concept to grasp... that he had fans... but, regardless, he was doing what needed to be done.

" Morning," Steve said, shifting the bag slung over his shoulder. It took a moment for Art to register the greeting, unsure if it was actually meant for her. But ripping her eyes from the words printed inside the book, she looked up and peered at Steve through her glasses.

" Morning. Have you been up long?" she asked, noting that not many of the soldiers had been up more than twenty minutes. Steve's lips puckered slightly as he thought about her question.

" And hour or so, maybe? I had to, uh, pick this up." He nodded to the bag, which was a typical military green. Arching a brow in curiosity, Art let the book flip shut, her thumb holding her place.

" And what would be in this bag of mystery?" she asked, smirking slightly.

" Nothing of particular interest; it's my dress uniform, thats all," he told her with a small smile. He had to admit, being given the _real_ title of Captain was... _exciting_. He'd dreamed of fighting in the military and with all the rejections he'd been given, that was all it seemed it would be. A dream. But there he was, his dream no longer just a dream.

Art smiled at him and slid her thumb out of the book and held it against her knee. Steve pointed to it, asking,

" What book are you reading?"

" Hm? Oh." Art held the book up to show him the cover. " The Great Gatsby. It's one of my favorites." Steve nodded and smiled a bit.

" I think I read the beginning of it..." he mumbled, unsure if he actually had. The look of intense thought that soon overcame his features made Art laugh, which she quickly made silent, since she realized it was one of the hardest things to disguise, unless it was a chuckle. She held the book out to him.

" Take it and give it back whenever you want to; I've read it so many times," she told him, smiling more as he accepted the book and flipped through the worn pages. He nodded his thanks and then looked around as the sleepy camp. Again, there was that odd feeling he got on occasion when around Artie... that curiousness that there was something different about him that he could _never_ quite put his finger on... again, he shoved the thoughts aside as they blocked conversation and produced an awkward silence.

" So, are you going into London later?" Steve asked curiously, head cocking to the side slightly. Art's brows rose at the question and she nodded emphatically.

" Of course! I've always wanted to see it, and when you can get a drink among friends, that makes it even better," she chuckled, thinking about how Bucky was the real, legitimate reason she'd acquired a taste for alcohol. Steve snorted, probably thinking about said Sergeant as well.

" Let me guess... Bucky?"

" Bucky."

" Speaking of him, is he awake yet? I needed to ask him something," Steve inquired, jabbing his thumb in the general direction of the Sergeant's tent. Art gave a wry look and rose to her feet, pulling at her green buttondown uniform shirt.

" If he was awake I could have gotten my comb. I'll wake him up though. The fella needs to learn when to get his lazy ass out of bed."

Steve laughed and watched as Art stepped into the tent a couple yards away. When she spied the last sleeping man in the tent, she crossed her arms and thought of how to wake him up. He seemed _too _peaceful; his blanket had been tangled around his feet, his face was pressed into his pillow and his side rose and fell with deep breaths. Bucky, ever the prankster and occasional smartass, had woken her up in some rude ways before, including a glass of cold water and a rather disgusting pile of sweaty laundry. But _not_ being a prankster meant that Art wasn't going to get any good ideas in the snap of her fingers. So, rubbing her hands together and getting ready to run, she shoved Bucky off his cot and sprawling to the ground.

" _Jesus Christ!_" he shouted, sitting up and rubbing his head, looking blearily at his attacker. " Arthur... you best start running to save your sorry ass."

" I'm one of your best friends, Bucky, you're not going to kill me," Art pointed out with a snort. Bucky's eyes narrowed and he stood up, yanking his boots on.

" You wanna bet?"

It was less than a minute later that Steve saw Art trip out of the tent, running down the road, with only one boot on. Confused, the blond soldier watched as Bucky came bolting after his fellow Sergeant, holding Art's missing boot.

Well. That wake up call went well.

OOOO

Steve had been called to a meeting with Phillips and Peggy to help point out the locations of HYDRA bases were, according to a map he spied whilst saving Bucky. Having _not_ seen said map, everyone else was on a day of leave, out and about in London. Art, having been truthful about always wanting to have seen said city, was perfectly fine with milling around before meeting up with Bucky and Steve for some drinks. Sitting on the edge of the fountain in Trafalgar Square, Art wrote a letter to Kenny and Aunt Florence; she left out the whole 'being captured' situation-she couldn't imagine what her Aunt would do if she found out. But she did mention meeting Steve-leaving out the Captain America bit-and talked about what she'd seen in London. She thought she might pick up some souvenir to send with the letter... something Kenny would enjoy.

She also took the time to write in a leather bound journal she purchased just before she left New York; she hid it safely whenever she left the tent so no one would read through it, but kept a daily log about what was going on. Glancing up at the grey skies, Art spied the dozens upon dozens of blimps in the sky, one of the many effects of the war-the worry of London being bombed was majorly concerning. Sighing, Art shut her journal, tucked her letter into an envelope and sealed it. As she tucked things into her coat pockets, she glanced up to see two young women, both maybe just younger than she was sitting a few feet away. They were both sneaking glances at her, with small smiles.

Standing, Art gave them a smile and a wave, which causing one of the girls to giggle and look away. That was one of the things that always made Art shift uncomfortably; while being disguised as a man, at a distance, she looked more like a man, which of course meant that _girls_ thought she was a man. And _that_ meant that some of said girls would try to flirt with her. Leaving Trafalgar Square with pink cheeks, she fixed the collar of her double breasted brown military jacket. It was time to go get a drink.

OOOO

Bucky set a pint of his choice of drink in front of Art, sipping his own drink.

" Drink up!" he told her, patting her jacketed shoulder. The chill outside made her want to keep said article of clothing on, but she at least unbuttoned it, unlike Bucky. Smirking as she took the pint, she arched a brow at him.

" Is this an apology for tackling me into the mud this morning?" she asked, letting the beer slide down her throat. Bucky snorted and shook his head as if his friend was insane. Like he'd apologize for that; being shoved onto the ground was _not_ his ideal wake up call.

" Don't expect _that_ apology anytime soon," he grumbled, words disappearing into his glass.

Steve stepped into the pub, stepping over to his friends at the bar first. Art felt herself stare at the Captain, her brain clicking out of the whole 'act like a man' mindset she forced herself to stay in. And there she was again, Artemesia Knoll of New York City, New York, staring blatantly at Steve Rogers from Brooklyn. He wore his new dress uniform, which Art thought made him look _incredibly_ handsome. The shirt, the jacket and the pants were all a rich green that looked brown in the dim lighting, and the tie was a sandy tan color, perfectly knotted under his collar. The jacket was decorated with a couple of pins and was closed with gold buttons, hugging the contours of his body. Anyone who thought he _wasn't_ attractive must've been insane... And his hair, Art noticed, was perfectly combed as usual...

_Wait..._ she thought, _As usual? Since when did I start noticing his hair?_

That was also the moment she took a long sip of her drink to break herself away from staring at Steve. After clearing her throat, she smiled at Steve.

" Looking sharp, buddy," she complimented, deepening her voice again. Chuckling, Steve smiled, casting his blue eyes down to the floor. He didn't feel like flaunting his new earned position, but he did like the dress uniform...

" Yeah, and he has a reason to _wear_ his dress uniform..." Bucky chuckled, making Art roll her eyes. Steve let out a brief, almost embarrassed chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

" I'll uh, be back, alright? I need to go talk to those guys over there," Steve said, nodding to a table where Dugan and a couple other men were seated.

" What for?"

" I, uh, need a team to go help me take down the HYDRA bases and factories. I figured since they were captured and fought their way out pretty well, they may be just the men to do it." Bucky snorted and shook his head.

" If they agree, they're _idiots_."

Steve shook his head at his friend's apparent lack of faith and stepped into the next room.

The two Sergeants watched from their worn out leather padded bar stools, looking on as Steve sat down at Dugan's table.

" Evening, fellas," Steve said with a smile. Dugan smirked and took a long sip from his mug of beer.

" Well if it isn't our heroic captain! What can we do you for today?" he asked curiously, the other men looking at him with equal curiosity. There sat the man, Captain America, who'd been given a Medal of Valor, talking to _them_, a couple of men who were considered more of the rag-tag bunch of soldiers.

" I have something of a proposal for all of you. It came to my attention that I'll need to form a team of the best, able bodied men I can get if I want to start taking down these HYDRA bases. And, when I thought of such men..." he said, smiling at them all, " you bunch came to mind."

With a thunk, Dugan set down his beer.

" Let me get this straight..." he said, holding up a finger.

" We barely got out of there alive and you want us to go back?" Gabe Jones asked incredulously. Face growing sober, Steve nodded.

" Pretty much."

" Sounds rather _fun_ actually," Montgomery Falsworth said with a smile, his British accent lilting his words. With a belch, Jim Morita agreed with,

" I'm in."

A Frenchman by the name of Jacques Dernier on Steve's right began to talk emphatically in his native language, to which, Steve's forehead creased slightly. Gabe replied in French, and the two men laughed and shook hands, finally noticing the questioning looks everyone was giving them.

" We're in," Gabe explained, gesturing between himself and Jacques. A smile creeping up on Steve's face, he turned his eyes to Dugan, who had yet to reply.

" Hell, I'll always fight, but you gotta do one thing for me," Dugan said.

" What's that?" Dugan downed the rest of his beer and set the empty glass down.

" Open a tab," came his reply with a smile. Not holding back his smile and his quiet laugh, Steve collected all of the empty glasses and walked to the bar to do as Dugan asked.

A man playing the piano began to play a tune recognizable to many of the men there, who began to sing. Bucky snorted into his drink having heard Dugan's request.

" You see? I told you... they're all idiots," Bucky told Steve as he sat on a stool between Bucky and Art. Settling down, Steve asked,

" How about you? Are you both ready to follow _Captain America_ into the jaws of death?"

" Hell, no," came Bucky's reply, " That little guy from Brooklyn who was _too dumb_ to not run away from a fight... I'm following him." Steve smiled at his friend's words, then turned to look at Art.

" And you?"

" Me?"  
" Yes."

Blowing a breath out and thinking it over, she was truly shocked. She'd known the guy for, what, about two weeks, and now he wanted her, a woman in disguise to be a member of his team of commandos... sucking in the breath she'd just let out, thinking about how wrong it would be since she was lying to everyone everyday, would probably be thrown into jail if anyone found out...

" You bet I'm in. You saved my life, I should try and help save yours," Art replied with a smile. As Steve nodded happily, the bartender gave him a drink.

" But you're keeping the outfit, right?" Bucky asked. Steve looked at him incredulously, hearing Art laugh on his left. But, instead of hearing a sarcastic remark, he smiled.

" You know what?" He looked at a poster of himself in said uniform, which announced that the Captain America tour had been canceled. " It's kinda growing on me," he admitted, much to Bucky's amusement.

Suddenly the singing died down, the men's voices trailing off... and the three friends at the bar understood why. Into the doorway stepped Peggy Carter, looking gorgeous in a well fitted vivid red dress. They stood from their seats in respect for their superior.

" Captain," she said. Steve nodded to her.

" Agent Carter," he replied. Bucky, waiting to hear his greeting, found that he wasn't going to get it, and looked at Steve a little surprised. So, forcing a smile as Peggy and Steve shared a long look, he looked the woman over once and said,

" Ma'am." Art tilted her head in a nod, and got one in return, just as Bucky did.

" Howard has some equipment for you to try. Tomorrow morning?"

" Sounds good."

Peggy looked off, not noticing Steve taking unsure glances at her appearance. Her hair was neatly done, the chestnut brown waves hanging just above her shoulder as usual; the vivid red dress, which was the color of her lipstick, clung nicely to her waist, her make-up was _perfect_ and she was the most beautiful woman in the pub-everyone could see that. While Steve and Bucky had no problem looking the Englishwoman over, Art leaned back against the bar and played with her fingers.

" I see your top squad is prepping for duty," Peggy said with a small smirk, noting the drinking men in the next room. Bucky smiled and noted that one of them had gotten up to dance.

" You don't like music?" he asked, noting that she wasn't looking away from Steve, even as she answered.

" I do, actually. I might even, when this is all over, go dancing." Bucky, seeing his moment, said,

" Then what are we waiting for?"

" The right partner," Peggy said softly, still locking eyes with Steve. " Oh-eight hundred, Captain."

" Yes, Ma'am. I'll be there," Steve replied as she stepped out of the room.

Bucky watched her leave, brows creasing in both confusion and realization. That usual worked-the smooth line, the charming smile... he could always dance with whatever girl he wanted.

" I'm invisible," he suddenly said with genuine shock and, as Art thought, some concern, " I-I'm turning into _you_. It's like a horrible dream." Steve grinned and pat his shoulder.

" Don't take it so hard. Maybe she's got a friend!" the blond man said happily, the three soldiers turning back to the bar.

Bucky immediately downed more of his beer, genuinely feeling as if it were a bad dream. Art just fixed her hair by moving a strand off of her forehead; with her guy's hairstyle, it was the _easiest_ it had ever been to fix. When it was longer and curly and what not, it was alway more of a struggle-what pin goes where, what curls will fall in her face and which ones won't. That was going to be something hard to do once she left the military. She would have to be a woman again. She'd have to grow out her hair, find new dresses, relearn how to properly apply makeup again... but she wasn't going to ever look half as good as Peggy would. She'd still have her broader than average shoulders, she'd still have her strong jaw and she would have scars. Forget the bright red lipstick and the curling iron-she didn't want to be a model anyways. But, that still didn't stop the pang of what she thought was jealousy when Steve and Peggy interacted moments before...

" So, you have any girls back home, Artie?" Bucky suddenly asked. Snapping out of her thoughts, Art laughed and shook her head.

" If you mean my Aunt, yeah. If you mean girlfriends, no. Not me." Bucky reached across Steve and clapped her on the shoulder.

" You'll find some one, Artie, you've got that charm about you."

Art snorted and glanced at the two men. She slowly lifted her glass to her lips.

" Thanks, Ace. I'll give you call when that happens..."

_**Afterword:**_ _**Well, as late as this is, it's a chapter! =D So, sorry about said late update; I was in California for a week and I've had to get used to the switch in time differences. This chapter also proved a little bit tricky, but I got it done! On to the next!**_

_**REVIEW REPLIES!**_

**FreeSpiritSeeker:** _Steve IS trying to figure Art out! He still is XD We'll see what happens next yes? I hope you enjoyed! Thanks again!_

**Levicorpyutani:** _Don't worry, I have the whole 'Steve-finding-out-Art's-a-woman' situation aaaallll planned out! The voice thing actually does come into play a bit XD Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks again!_

_**And to those who added this to favorites/story alerts, thank you so much! It means a lot!**_

_**Well, there you have it, sorry for the late absence, but I'll try not to let it be too long next time! Hope you guys enjoyed! Thanks again!**_

_**~Mary**_


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